Their Eyes
by Katie1995
Summary: One-Shot! "What they don't realise, however, is that I have scars like they do, lost people I have loved due to my actions, and so if they believe that I don't realise what repercussions my actions have, then none of them know me at all." Please R&R!


**A/N – (I don't own **_**The Hunger Games Trilogy **_**or the characters in any way; all rights are reserved to **_**Suzanne Collins**_**.)**

**Their Eyes**

**(Haymitch's P.O.V)**

The hardest part of my life is the day I'm thrust back into the limelight. Everyone's eyes are on me – Panem's, President Snow's, Effie Trinket's, District 12's – it goes on and on. But the people, who I can't bear to be presented before each year, are the people from my district. People from _my district_! I've walked onto that stage every year since the fiftieth Hunger Games and each year I haven't failed to be drunk – actually, now I think about it, I've achieved being even more drunk each year after the last. It does me no good, the drink. I'm presented as an imbecile, a mess, a hopeless case for himself and for each new tribute.

But, the funny thing is, I don't care anymore.

I went past caring years ago – I do this now because I have to, not because I want to. If I could, I would kill myself right here, right now, but each year, those two children keep me tied to the mortal world, and every year I have to mentor two children who won't even make it five steps into the cornucopia. Each year, my existence becomes even more pointless.

So now, as I watch Effie walking around the wooden stage inspecting the platform she will soon be stood upon reading out the kids' death sentences, I lean back against the wall and just think.

How many of those eyes who watch me, hate me? How many of those pairs of eyes belong to previous tributes' mothers and fathers who want my blood for failing their children? How many of those seam grey and blue merchant eyes, want me dead – wouldn't care if I didn't wake up tomorrow morning?

I can guess now it would be almost everyone, because while the parents of dead tributes hate me for failing their sons and daughters, the others hate me too, for being a pain, for always being drunk, for not caring anymore, for giving up on everyone and being nasty to those who generally are nice to me.

So, when the horns blare out for the Reaping, I take a swig from my silver flask and savour the burning sensation the whisky brings to my throat, savouring the thoughts that are lost with every sip I take. And as I walk onto the stage, Effie in her usual ridiculous clothes, prancing around like deer, I collapse into the chair left for me, taking my chance to look at the big screen where the cameras have focussed their attention on me – my tie hung messily around my neck, my two top buttons undone and my hair dishevelled. I smile and toast my flask in their direction, because it's begun; the Capitol finally get to watch their favourite reality TV show begin, and I have to live through the disappointment of losing yet again two young lives I'm sure I couldn't save anymore than they could themselves; but I will be blamed for their murders as I am every year, for I am Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's second Quarter Quell victor, and so I should know how to keep them alive.

But I don't.

And it's true, because as my eyes wander from the big screens to the audience, I am met with the eyes of the families who lost their children to me, my hopelessness, and I find it hard to withdraw my attention, because although I can't say it, my eyes are shouting sorry to all the mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters of tributes that have died in my account. Shouting sorry to those who believed I could become a better mentor, try harder, and lose the alcohol.

What they don't realise, however, is that I have scars like they do, lost people I have loved due to my actions, and so if they believe that I don't realise what repercussions my actions have, then none of them know me at all, because I know exactly what I can do and what I have done, to have become the bitter man I am today.

**A/N – A little drabble from Haymitch's P.O.V. It's not a specific reaping, so Katniss may or may not be alive yet. **

**Anyways, I really love feedback! So if you have time, please drop me a review; they make my day!**

**Thanks, Katie1995. :)**


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